But this wasn’t a day to dwell on bludgeoning, or wicked deeds that would never come to pass. No, today was about something else entirely. “Have you breakfasted yet, Miss St. Claire?”
“I have, Your Grace. I’m afraid I was quite lazy this morning. Abby was kind enough to bring me a tray in my bedchamber.”
He shuffled his feet. “I see. Then you’re at leisure today?”
“Indeed, I am. It did occur to me that some more Christmas baking might be in order. Do you care for plum pudding, Your Grace?”
“Plum pudding? Yes, plum pudding is very well, but I, ah, I thought I might . . . that is, it occurred to me you might enjoy . . .” He glanced down at his feet, the tips of his ears heating.
She ducked her head, trying to catch his eye. “Yes, Your Grace? Is something amiss?”
“No, nothing. I just wished to enquire whether you might like to . . .” He paused to swallow. Why was his throat so dry?
“Yes? Might like to what, Your Grace?”
“Perhaps you don’t recall, but before the house party commenced, you mentioned the need for Christmas greenery.”
Monk made a faint choking sound, then hastily cleared his throat to cover it, but it sounded suspiciously like a smothered laugh.
Rose glanced at Monk, her brows pulling down in a puzzled frown. “Yes. It’s tradition to decorate on Christmas Eve.”
“Right. Just so.” Good Lord, this was torture. Justsayit, man.
He took her arm and led her to the opposite end of the entryway, out of Monk’s hearing. “It occurs to me, Miss St. Claire, that perhaps you have a point about the Christmas decorations.”
“I do?”
She sounded so shocked his lips twitched, in spite of himself. “Oh, I assure you I still find it tiresome in the extreme, and a great waste of time. I fail to understand why anyone would find hanging prickly garlands to be an enjoyable activity, but I suppose you’re correct in thinking my house party guests might find it pleasurable.”
“Such a generous acknowledgment, Your Grace. You quite stun me.” She bit her bottom lip, but there was no stifling the quirk at the corners of that sweet, pink mouth.
Good Lord, that smile. Had he actually managed to persuade himself itwasn’tcharming?
“Shall we walk the grounds a bit then, Your Grace?” She glanced over his shoulder toward the entryway door. A cheerful stream of morning sunshine poured through the glass, illuminating the spotless white marble floor with a blinding glow. “We’re certain to find any number of trees that will lend their boughs to our cause, and it is a lovely day for a stroll.”
“Well, I thought perhaps we might go out in the sleigh, instead.” He’d never fancied sleigh riding himself. As recently as just a few weeks ago he could hardly have conceived of a more tedious activity than being dragged about the snow while crowded into a narrow sleigh.
But if he were crowded into a sleigh with Rose St. Claire, well . . . the narrower, the better, and what else were they meant to do with such egregious piles of snow everywhere? As for decorating for Christmas, that did seem the sort of thing that might keep a pack of bored aristocrats amused for an afternoon.
A proper host would have invited the entire party, of course, but in this case, the entire party happened to include Dunwitty, and he didn’t fancy the idea of sharing Rose with the viscount. It wasn’t that he was stealing her away. Of course not. Nothing so dramatic as that—
“Sleigh riding!” She let out a squeal, and his gaze shot back to her.
Did she approve of his suggestion? Was she pleased? He could hardly tell, what with her gaping at him as she was, and an unpleasant pang of uncertainty seized him. He’d hoped to please her with the suggestion. Had he made a mess of it? God knew he wasn’t at all in the habit of pleasing anyone other than himself.
“If you like the idea, I thought we might go out this morning, and see which trees have the lushest greenery to offer,” he added, awkwardly enough.
“I like it very much, and we’re just in time, as tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”
“We’ll bring the entire party out tomorrow morning to cut the garlands, along with the wagon to haul them.” No doubt she saw right through his rather flimsy ploy to get her to himself. Monk certainly did, if the restrained snort from the other side of the entryway was any indication. “But if you’d prefer to wait and go with the others tomorrow—”
“No! No, I—I’d be delighted to go sleigh riding with you.” The smile he’d become obsessed with found her lips then. “Why, it’s just the thing, Your Grace! I wonder I didn’t think of it myself.”
Just like that, the tightness in his chest eased. “Very well. Go and fetch a wrap, Miss St. Claire, the warmest you have. The wind is brisk, and it’s rather cold, despite the sunshine.”
“Yes, of course!” She turned without another word and flew up the stairs, her skirts billowing out behind her. He watched her go, then resumed his pacing, marching from one end of the entryway to the other. Halfway through his third turn, he caught Monk’s eye.
His normally taciturn butler was smiling.Smiling, like an utter fool.
